'Memory, wherever you touch it, brings pain.'

George Seferis

"No!" Harry shouts, sounding frustrated. "Darcy's just said it—Pettigrew's dead! He killed him!" Harry points to Sirius, but Sirius is still looking at Scabbers with a face contorted with rage, flushed with what little color remains him.

"I meant to—but he got the better of me—" And without warning, Sirius lunges towards Ron, stretching his bony, skeletal fingers out to grab at Scabbers. Hermione screams from behind Darcy, and Lupin rushes forward, pulling Sirius away from Ron.

"Sirius, you can't do it like this! They don't understand!" Lupin pants, motioning around at Darcy, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Sounding frantic, he continues. "Darcy and Harry deserve the truth, Sirius. We need to explain—"

Sirius hesitates, looking at Lupin for a long time. "Fine," he croaks. "Tell them whatever you like, Remus—just make it quick."

In the short amount of time between Sirius speaking, and Lupin giving an answer, Darcy's ears perk up. She looks quickly towards the door, still wide open from when Lupin had kicked it in. The house settles, the walls creak for a moment, yet in between the normal sounds of an old and damaged home, Darcy thinks for a moment she hears a footstep coming from the hallway—a footstep and the groaning of the floor, very faintly. Darcy looks at everyone else in the room, but no one seems to have heard anything, and Lupin's voice fills her ears once more, both distracting and calming her.

"I suppose it all started with my being bitten . . ." Lupin begins, but then Darcy hears another footstep in earnest this time, and the door opens very, very slightly, creaking loudly.

She's not the only person who has noticed this time; everyone is looking towards the doorway, but no more noise issues. There is only silence, and Ron finally breaks it—"This place is haunted!"

Lupin shakes his head slowly, eyes fixed on the doorway, eyebrows knitted together, a (Darcy hates herself for thinking that it's cute while she's in such a horrible situation) crease appearing between them. He turns back to Ron almost reluctantly. "No," he says finally. "I told Darcy months ago that this house was built for me when I came to Hogwarts as a student." He pauses, looks at Darcy for a moment, and then continues. "I was a very small boy when I received the bite, you see, and the potion that I take now to make me safe—it's a recent discovery, not having been around when I was a student. Wolfsbane allows me to keep my mind, but when I was younger, I didn't have that luxury—I became a fully fledged monster once a month."

Darcy and Harry exchange glances. She swallows loudly, unsure of where this is going or why they're being told this. Her body is sore and the room still begins to swim around her every few minutes, and all she wants is to fall asleep and wake up and know this has all just been a bad dream. All she wants is to leave this room, to be with Harry, to be far away from Sirius Black, to be curled up on a warm sofa beside Lupin.

"My father thought there was no way I would be allowed to go to school, to be around other children, for fear that I would bite someone," Lupin explains. "You can understand why parents wouldn't want their children exposed to me, knowing that risk. But Dumbledore—he was sympathetic. He promised certain precautions would be made—this house for my transformations, and the Whomping Willow to protect it from curious students—and I would be able to come to school."

Darcy remembers speaking to Dumbledore, the day after Lupin had attacked her. She remembers being surprised at his reaction, having expected him to be angry beyond belief, but he hadn't really wanted to fire Lupin. He would have, had Darcy asked him to, but now she recalls Dumbledore did seem to have great sympathy for Lupin.

"My transformations were . . . terrible," Lupin says. "But besides that, I was happy. I had found three best friends—the first friends I ever had—Sirius, Peter Pettigrew, and your father," he gives both Darcy and Harry significant looks, "James Potter. And they didn't fail to notice my monthly absences. They soon found out what I was, and they did something that made my transformations almost bearable."

Darcy looks at Sirius, then at Scabbers, and then back to Lupin. Lupin's story begins to make more sense, but it's ridiculous—why wouldn't he have told her this? After all Darcy had told him, why had Lupin kept this to himself? "They became Animagi," she finishes, her voice soft, and Scabbers—or Peter?—squeaks louder.

"I don't understand how that could have helped you," Hermione cuts in.

"As animals, they could keep me company when I transformed . . . keep me in check if I was getting out of hand. Having them around made me less dangerous, and the four of us were soon roaming the grounds once a month by the full moon," Lupin replies. "That's how the Marauder's Map came to be—we soon knew the grounds better than anyone. I was Moony, Sirius was Padfoot, Peter was Wormtail, and James was Prongs."

Darcy frowns, her heart still racing. Why hadn't he told her? When she had asked for information about her parents, this is the kind of information she had wanted—exciting stories to remember her parents by, yet Lupin had never mentioned this before. She glances at Sirius again, but he doesn't seem to be contradicting Lupin, nor does he seem surprised by Lupin's story. He looks infuriated still, staring from Scabbers to Lupin to Darcy and back again, always tearing his eyes away from her when he notices her looking. Lupin looks at Darcy for a long time, and continues to look at her when he speaks again.

"I wanted to tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus . . ." he sighs. "But telling Dumbledore would be a direct admission of betraying his trust, and his trust has meant everything to me." Lupin runs a hand through his hair. "He gave me a place at Hogwarts both as a young boy and now—he allowed me to stay even knowing what I've done to you, Darcy—I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't—I couldn't admit to you that I'd been too much of a coward to go to Dumbledore . . . I couldn't lose your trust either, and your trust, after everything that has happened—" He stops abruptly, glancing around the room, his cheeks pink. Lupin lowers his voice very slightly. "So Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Sirius sneers, looking at Lupin again, looking nothing like the handsome man in Darcy's photo album. "What does Snape have to do with anything?"

"He's been telling Dumbledore all year I'm not to be trusted," Lupin answers, his voice hoarse. "But he has his reasons . . ."

Darcy licks her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. Speaking directly to Lupin, she asks, "How did my father save Snape's life?"

Lupin nods slowly at her, smiling weakly. "I did tell you that it was a story for another time, didn't I?" he asks, speaking mostly to himself. He looks over his shoulder, giving Sirius a sad look. "Sirius decided to play a trick on Snape. A trick that involved me—"

"Serves him right!" Sirius snarls.

Darcy jumps at the sound of Sirius's voice, grabbing onto Lupin's sleeve. Lupin looks down at Darcy, at her fingers curling around his forearm. He doesn't move to shake her off, which to Darcy is a good sign. "My friends were not the only ones to notice my absence every month . . ." Lupin begins again, giving Darcy a small, reassuring smile as her fingers tighten around him. "Severus saw me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey, heading towards the Whomping Willow, and Sirius told him how to get inside it so he could follow me . . . Severus listened, he prodded the knot and slipped down into the tunnel, but he never made it to this house—James heard what Sirius had done and went after Severus, saving him just in time—but Severus had seen me at the end of the tunnel, had seen what I am, and Dumbledore forbid him to tell anyone."

Harry touches his chin as if deep in thought. "That's what Snape doesn't like you?" he wonders, and Lupin looks at Harry, nodding. "He thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right."

Darcy's heart sinks and she clings onto Lupin's arm even tighter at the sound of Snape's cold, sneering voice, her knuckles white. From where the footstep had come only a few minutes ago, Snape pulls the Invisibility Cloak off of him, dropping it to the floor. His wand, pointed at Lupin's chest, is quite steady, ready for an attack.

"Get behind me, Darcy," he whispers. Very slowly, Lupin grabs the back of Darcy's shirt, pulling her behind him. "Severus—" Lupin starts, but Snape interrupts him.

"I've told the Headmaster that you've been helping Black into the castle . . ." Snape says silkily.

Darcy looks down into her free hand, where her wand and Lupin's are still being held. She looks up at Lupin, but his eyes flick to her just for a second before fixing on Snape again. Darcy releases his arm, gripping Lupin's wand and preparing to slide it into his back pocket while Snape is distracted, but—

"Get away from him, Darcy," Snape commands, and Darcy freezes, Lupin's wand inches away from his back pocket. "Now."

Lupin nods at her, pushing her gently towards Harry. Harry catches Darcy, wrapping an arm around her. Darcy reaches out for Hermione, and Hermione takes her hand, allowing herself to be pulled to Darcy and Harry. Then, Darcy looks at Ron apologetically, knowing his leg needs immediate attention, but there isn't anything she can do—she could try a spell, but there's no guarantee Ron's leg would benefit from it. And if it were to go horribly wrong . . . Darcy's jaw begins to throb furiously again, and she looks at Sirius, his face twisted with rage again at the sight of Snape.

"You haven't heard everything—if you'll only let me explain—" Lupin says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender to Snape.

"I've heard enough," Snape hisses, and Darcy shakes her head. She and Harry look sideways at each other. "Two more for Azkaban tonight—"

Darcy inhales deeply, gathering what courage remains of her, and then she shouts, "Professor Snape, please—"

"No, Darcy," Lupin snaps, looking at her. "Be quiet—"

But Lupin doesn't get to finish his thought. Before he can say anymore, a loud BANG issues from Snape's wand and thin cords burst from the end of his wand. Hermione shrieks and Darcy holds her tighter, fingernails digging into her skin. The cords wrap themselves around Lupin, wrapping around his mouth and gagging him, wrapping around his wrists and ankles, and Lupin tries to move but overbalances and with a crash, he falls to the ground with a painful grunt. Sirius charges Snape, but Snape moves quickly and points his wand at Sirius's face. Darcy breaks away from Harry and Hermione as soon as Lupin collides with the floor and she kneels beside him, tugging at the cords around his body.

"Stop!" Darcy cries, looking up at Snape. "Stop it! You don't know what you're doing! If you'd just listen to them!" She fumbles with the two wands in her hands, dropping Lupin's at her feet and pointing her own at the cords around Lupin.

"Get away from him, Darcy!" Snape yells again, his wand still fixed on Sirius. "You are in enough trouble as it is." He hesitates, looking from Darcy to Lupin and back again, his nose scrunching, looking rather disgruntled. "I'd have thought this would please you . . . the werewolf who scarred you, bound and gagged and ready for the demen—"

"No," Darcy tells him, tears in her eyes at the very thought. "No—let him go!"

Lupin tries to speak to her, but with the cords covering his mouth, all she hears is muffled grunting, completely incoherent. He throws his head in the direction of Harry and Hermione, and Darcy gives him one last, lingering look before scooping Lupin's wand up again and backing away from him towards her brother again. Her entire body shaking and in a good amount of pain, Darcy allows Harry to wrap an arm around her again protectively.

"As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle," Sirius breathes very heavily, throwing a finger over her shoulder to point at Ron. "I'll come quietly . . ."

"Up to the castle?" Snape asks, his mouth twisting in a malicious smile. "No, I don't think so. As soon as we make it out of here, all I'll have to do is call the dementors… Come, everyone . . ." And with a snap of his fingers, the cords around Lupin lengthen, flying to Snape's hands.

Clenching both wands very tightly in her hand, Darcy looks down at them, and then at Harry, hoping that he's thinking the same thing she is—hoping that he will not allow Snape to drag Lupin to the dementors—hoping that he will allow Lupin and Sirius to finish their story, their explanation. But it's hard to think with Scabbers squeaking loudly from between Ron's bleeding hands, and she looks at the rat for a long time, eyes passing over Sirius for the briefest moment and over Lupin, staring helplessly and apologetically at her.

And when Harry's hand closes around Darcy's free one, squeezing tight, she knows all is not lost. As Harry drags her away from Hermione and to the door, blocking Snape from leaving the room, a recklessness seizes her, and with Harry at her side, she feels truly brave for the first time that night. But Snape doesn't seem to find their display of courage amusing, and he scowls down at them.

"Get out of the way," he tells them both in a very cold and dangerous voice. Snape's black eyes fix upon Darcy's face. "Need I remind you that last time you found yourself in this building with Lupin, he nearly killed you—"

"You don't need to remind me, sir," she retorts, releasing Harry's hand and wiping the sweat from her palm onto her skirt. "But I've been alone with him plenty of times this year—" Snape's eyebrows raise, but Darcy plunges on, feeling a slight blush creep up her neck. "And he has only ever been kind to me—gentle, and compassionate . . ." Darcy's voice trails away as she looks again at Lupin, his face softening, relaxing, despite being bound. She thinks of all the time they've spent together, thinks of how Lupin had never touched her, had never kissed her, had never loved her without approval from her, without her consent; thinks of how Lupin had never touched her too roughly, how he had never seemed inclined in the slightest to harm her, not even while she was bleeding freely from the nose—the attention he'd given her in the middle of a crisis, to soothe her, to help her. "I know he would never hurt me . . . not if he could help it . . ."

There's silence for a moment, and then Snape reaches out to grab Darcy's shoulder. "Get out of the way!" He shakes her roughly, and Lupin's muffled shouting continues suddenly, his face turning red as he attempts to move his mouth. Sirius growls at Snape, but with a wand pointing at his face, doesn't move to help her. "Twice now, I've saved your life at the hands of this werewolf, and you still insist on placing your trust in a creature that has been helping Black into the castle all this time to kill you and your arrogant brother!"

Harry, however, does decide to intervene. "Don't touch her!" Harry yells, grabbing Darcy to steady her.

The shaking has made Darcy dizzy again, and she sways on her feet for a moment when Snape pulls his hand away from her. Snape seems to be completely unreasonable now, utterly insane, and the feel of the two wands in Darcy's hands bring her back to reality as Snape shouts in her face. She and Harry share another quick glance, and she knows this time, beyond a doubt, that Harry is thinking the same thing she is. Before Snape can stop them, Darcy raises her right hand, pointing hers and Lupin's wand at Snape, and Harry raises his own, as well.

"Expelliarmus!"

Darcy had expected the spell to be powerful, as it has come from three separate wands, but it's much more powerful that she thought. Snape is lifted off his feet and he soars across the room, hitting the wall and sliding to the ground, his face bloody, unmoving. Her heart stopping momentarily, Darcy looks around the room and notices that everyone seems to have had the same idea as they did, for Hermione and Ron both have their wands still raised, looks of fright and anxiety on their faces.

As Hermione expresses quiet doubts about what they've just done, Darcy notices Lupin still struggling on the floor and both she and Sirius rush over to his side. Darcy beats him there, and Sirius stands behind her, watching, as she works furiously with the ropes around Lupin with shaking hands. As soon as she unties the ropes that bind his wrists, Lupin pulls frantically at the cords that gag him, and Darcy finishes with the ones around his ankles. She offers him a hand and he takes it, getting to his feet. Darcy brushes the front of him off automatically, and very slowly, holds Lupin's wand up for him to take.

"Thank you, Darcy," Lupin whispers, taking his wand and reaching out to touch her shoulder, but glancing at Sirius and pulling away, thinking better of it. "I think it's time you all have had some proof." He turns to Ron, holding out his hand expectantly. "Ron, give me Peter—now."

But Ron, despite having stopped Snape from capturing both Lupin and Sirius, still seems hesitant. He looks down at Scabbers, scratching and biting at his hand and fingers trying to get away. "But—that's—I mean—" Ron shakes his head, and Darcy, not really caring what happens to Scabbers, wishes he'd just offer his rat up to Lupin. "How would Sirius even know if Scabbers is Peter? He's been in Azkaban this whole time—"

Lupin seems as if he hasn't thought of this yet. He turns to Sirius, looking curious. "That's fair, Sirius," he says. "How did you know where Peter was hiding?"

Sirius doesn't answer, but reaches inside his robes and procures a newspaper, flattening it and showing everyone the front page. Darcy had seen this edition once over the summer, when Ron and his family had gone to Egypt on holiday. On the front page, in black-and-white, the Weasleys are shuffling restlessly with wide smiles on their faces, and on Ron's shoulder is Scabbers. Darcy narrows her eyes at the paper, looking up in Sirius's face slowly, remembering something that she'd heard in the Three Broomsticks months ago.

. . . asked if he could have my newspaper, and I gave it to him . . .

"He's missing a toe . . ." Lupin says, examining the paper closely. He turns to Ron and Scabbers again. "Haven't you ever heard, Ron? The biggest bit of Pettigrew they could find was his—"

"—finger," Sirius finishes for Lupin. Darcy looks at Scabbers quickly, and sure enough—she's never noticed before, not that she's really taken such a critical look at the rat before—Scabbers has a single toe missing. Darcy's heart pumps harder and harder, her brain spinning with all of this information, with all that's happened since they set foot in the Shrieking Shack. "I cornered him, but Peter made sure the street heard that I had been the one to betray James and Lily—he blew the whole street apart, killed all those Muggles, cut off his finger, and sped away . . . to live with the rest of the rats in the sewers . . ."

"No, no, no—" Ron replies, shaking his head again frantically. His face is starting to look green again. Darcy feels sick, and she clutches her stomach, the room beginning to spin again. It can't be . . . "Scabbers probably got into a fight—he's been in my family for—"

"Twelve years?" Lupin asks gently. "An awfully long lifespan for a rat . . ."

"We've been taking good care of him!"

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Lupin says again, and Darcy frowns, staring at Scabbers. "Probably hasn't been looking well since he had heard Sirius was on the loose again . . ."

"No, he's scared of that mad cat of Hermione's!" Ron answers, throwing an accusing finger at him. "Crookshanks has been trying to eat him all year!"

Yet when Darcy looks at Harry again, she knows that they're thinking the same thing. Scabbers had been looking terrible the moment she laid eyes on him in Diagon Alley, the first day the Weasleys had turned up. And as the rat continues to thrash in Ron's grip, Darcy feels a warm hand grip her shoulder, and her chest heaves. She looks up at Lupin, who is already staring down at her, looking concerned. "Darcy, are you all right?" he whispers. "Don't be afraid, love . . . you'll see in a moment . . ."

Darcy opens her mouth to speak, but upon hearing Sirius's voice, she closes it again, trying to focus on Lupin's grip—trying not to faint, trying to understand what's going on—trying to figure out what to believe. "This cat isn't mad, nor was he trying to eat your rat," Sirius says, stroking Crookshanks. The cat nuzzles against his long fingers, purring all the while. "Crookshanks saw Peter for what he was, and all year has been trying to collect him for me. He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't—so he brought me a list of the Gryffindor Tower passwords from a boy's bedside table . . ."

Avoiding Sirius's eyes, Darcy grabs onto Lupin's arm again, looking up into his face. "Professor Lupin?" she breathes, and he looks at her at once, looking overly concerned.

"Yes, Darcy?"

"I—I don't understand—" she rasps, running her free hand through her hair, feeling cold sweat on her forehead. "Sirius is here to kill Peter Pettigrew—he's here to—"

"Yes," Sirius answers, but Darcy forces herself not to look at him. "I am here to kill Peter."

"Then I should have let Snape take you!" Harry yells.

"No, Harry—" Lupin looks from Harry to Darcy. "All this time, we've thought that Sirius betrayed your parents, but it was really Peter—"

And then something else comes back to Darcy, something else she remembers Professor McGonagall saying: "Dumbledore offered to be their Secret Keeper, but they trusted Black with their lives and wouldn't change their minds." She tugs on Lupin's sleeve again, her voice seemingly non-existent, and she hopes that Lupin is prepared to catch her, for she's so close to fainting now . . . "He was their Secret Keeper," she rasps. "You said so yourself—you said you knew Sirius was our parents' Secret Keeper—"

"Darcy," Sirius croaks. Darcy flinches, wrapping her hand around Lupin's bicep, standing very close to him as Sirius looks at her, speaking directly to her. His eyes are shining, and Darcy feels tears well up in her eyes again, as well. "I as good as killed them . . . I persuaded your parents to change their Secret Keeper from me to Peter at the last minute . . . I remember the night they died, I had gone to check on Peter, but he was—gone, with no sign of a struggle—so I went to James and Lily's house, and I saw—the house was destroyed, and their bodies—and I heard crying—"

Overwhelmed with emotion, Darcy starts to cry. Lupin glances at her again, lowering his hand from her shoulder, placing a hand on the small of her back just for a second before letting his hand fall to his side. "It was me—I was crying," Darcy whispers, her voice cracking as everyone watches her speak. "You came to me—I was trapped under the debris, it was crushing my legs. And when you picked me up, you held me to your chest—I didn't want to leave you."

"How do you know that?" Sirius asks quickly, tilting his head. "How do you remember that?"

Darcy shrugs, smiling weakly, Sirius's face blurred by her tears. "I've been dreaming about that night ever since I saw your face on the television last summer."

Sirius seems breathless. "You were so young—so afraid—I wanted to take you with me—you and Harry . . ."

"I loved you," she cries, wiping her tear stained cheek on Lupin's sleeve, sniffling. Darcy remembers all the night's she's dreamed of him—of all the nights and mornings she had woken feeling loved and wanted. She remembers all the time she'd spent looking at the photograph of Sirius holding her, admiring his handsome face. "I wanted to go with you—I loved you, Sirius, I—"

"Darcy," Sirius says very quietly, so everyone has to lean into him to hear what he's saying. "Giving you to Hagrid is one of my greatest regrets." And in less than five seconds, both Darcy and Sirius have made moves to reach each other. Darcy releases Lupin's arm and takes three long strides across the room, and Sirius meets her in the middle. Sobbing, Darcy falls into Sirius's chest, letting him wrap his arms around her. He strokes her hair, resting his cheek on her forehead, holding onto her as if she's the only real thing in the room, the only stable and sturdy thing he's touched in years. "You believe me, don't you? I would never do anything to hurt you . . ."

"Wh—Darcy?" Harry's voice comes from behind her, but Darcy doesn't answer.

For almost a year, Darcy's been dreaming of nuzzling into Sirius's chest, feeling comforted and loved, and now it's real. She pulls away from Sirius and looks up into his face, and for a moment, with his expression softer than it had been, she can recognize him underneath the waxy skin, can see the warmth in his eyes. Sirius wipes at Darcy's cheeks, brushing her tears away. He cradles her face in his hands, touching her as if she's made of china, as if by touching her too roughly she may break into a thousand pieces. He smiles at her, and to the amazement of everyone else in the room, Darcy smiles back. She allows him to kiss her forehead—a familiar, loving kiss. She allows him to smooth her hair back, and Sirius—despite his dirty appearance—is suddenly the most beautiful thing in the world to her. She wishes, briefly, that she had a reason to cast a Patronus now, because surely this moment would be able to produce the most powerful Patronus she's ever seen . . . being reunited with Sirius again, after all these years . . .

"Ron," Darcy says finally, with her arms still wrapped around Sirius's middle. She turns her head to look at Ron, resting her cheek against Sirius's very bony shoulder. "Give Scabbers to Professor Lupin. Now."

Ron gives Darcy a very pained expression, but holds out Scabbers reluctantly towards Lupin. Darcy stands up straighter, allowing Sirius to walk over to Lupin, who holds Scabbers by the tail. Grabbing Snape's wand, Sirius holds it up at Scabbers, and Darcy waits for what seems like an eternity before anything happens. Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath.

"Together?" Sirius murmurs, and Darcy takes a few steps backwards, placing herself at Harry's side once more.

"Yes," Lupin answers raggedly. "One—two—three!"

There's a blinding flash of light—Darcy pulls Harry to her, shielding her eyes with her hand. Peering through her fingers, Darcy sees Scabbers floating in midair, and both Sirius and Lupin take a step backwards. Scabbers wriggles in the air, thrashing violently, and then he falls to the ground with a loud thump. Darcy's heart sinks at the idea that Scabbers is really nothing more than a rat, the idea that Lupin and Sirius had been mistaken, and then—

Darcy looks down at the floor, disgusted, as Scabbers begins to transform quickly. Instead of small paws, there are arms growing from the rat's body, arms with short and stubby fingers—one of which is missing. And then a head, and short legs, and instead of looking at Scabbers, Darcy is looking at a man—ugly and balding, tufts of blond hair missing, dirty and cringing, wringing his hands together nervously, eyes darting from one person to the other, his gaze occasionally lingering on Sirius. Darcy tries to remember the photographs Lupin had shown her—the ones where Peter Pettigrew had been present—but she can't quite remember his face. She wonders if he's always looked like a rat, or if living as one for twelve years has adjusted his appearance.

"Sirius—" Pettigrew squeak. "Remus—my old friends!" Darcy sees him look towards the door, but after the discovery of the truth, she feels more confident than ever, and she races to block the doorway. Pettigrew jumps at the sight of Darcy staring at him, turning back to Lupin dramatically. "Remus—you don't—you don't believe him, do you? He tried to kill me! And he's come to try again! You've got to help me, Remus . . ."

"No one is going to kill you until we sort a few things out," Lupin answers coolly, his wand at his side.

"I knew he'd be back to finish me off—" Pettigrew continues, and Darcy scrunches her nose at him, disgusting by his very appearance. "Twelve years I've waited for this—"

Lupin cocks an eyebrow. "You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?"

Pettigrew opens and closes his mouth quickly, struggling to find an answer. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must have taught him some tricks—"

Lupin, Sirius, and Pettigrew continue to bicker back and forth—Peter Pettigrew mumbles and looks up at them, watery-eyed, continually glancing towards the door. But Darcy barely hears them—Darcy's entire world has just been turned upside down, and a rage consumes her at the sight of this ugly, balding, crying man—this ugly, balding, crying man who had spent a little less than half his life as a rat, watching her and Harry, listening to their conversations, collecting information—this ugly, balding, crying man is the reason Voldemort had been able to get to her parents, is the reason they're dead. Darcy stares at him very hard, trying to slow her breathing, trying to calm herself down and bring herself out of her rage.

Had it not been for Peter Pettigrew, Darcy might still have a family—instead of returning to Privet Drive this summer, she could have been returning to her parents, her beautiful mother and her handsome father. Had it not been for Peter Pettigrew, and had her parents still been killed, she could have lived out her life with Sirius. And to see him now—to see Peter Pettigrew cower in fear upon meeting Lupin and Sirius for the first time in twelve years, to see him crying like a child upon the floor, to know that this man is the reason for everything that's happened to her . . .

Darcy looks away from Pettigrew, unable to take in his appearance any longer. Everyone seems to be focused on the scene with the three men, and Darcy stumbles slightly, leaning against the door, putting her hand to her face. She rubs her temples, the ache in her jaw suddenly hitting her full force again. Fighting the urge to vomit, to run away, Darcy looks up, hoping someone will catch her eye, hoping someone will notice that she's not okay—and her heart swells with love when Lupin glances at her. He does a double-take before moving swiftly to her side. She can hear Sirius talking in the background as Lupin reaches her—

". . . as they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog . . ."

Darcy reaches instinctively for Lupin's hand, and she's more than grateful when he allows her to take it, squeezing and looking up at him with tears in her eyes. He lets go of her, placing a hand on her back, pulling him slightly to her.

". . . except when I saw you at Privet Drive that one night during the summer, and when I came to watch you play Quidditch, Harry . . ."

Lupin urges her forward a few steps, and Harry looks over at the sound of their footsteps.

". . . and when I entered Gryffindor Tower," Sirius continues, looking at Darcy. Lupin drops his hand from Darcy's back. "I had gone into your dormitory, Darcy, and I shouldn't have, I know, but—I didn't want to leave without first seeing you . . ."

And Darcy remembers the night that Ron had woken her, screaming bloody murder. She remembers something coming into her dormitory, something she had thought was Crookshanks. But as the something brushed against her hand, it had seemed too big—too hairy and shaggy—and there hadn't been purring . . . and Hermione had told Darcy that Crookshanks had been in her room all the time . . .

"Believe me," Sirius says, looking from Harry to Darcy and back again. "Believe me—I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

Darcy nods quickly, looking to Harry for his answer. Harry looks at Darcy for a long time, his jaw clenched. And then, slowly, Harry nods his head and Darcy smiles at him. At this small motion, Pettigrew falls to the floor, sobbing, recognizing defeat, and Lupin gives Darcy another gentle push into Harry's arms, moving back to stand with Sirius.

"Are you okay?" Harry whispers to her, but Darcy isn't sure how to answer.

"Yes," she breathes, holding tight to Harry.

"Did you know? Any of this?" he whispers again in her ear, noticing Pettigrew watching them while crying at Lupin and Sirius' feet.

"No," she answers, her voice barely there. "He never told me anything."

They hold each other tighter, and Darcy screams as Pettigrew crawls towards her and Harry with speed she would never have believed possible from such a heavy man. "Darcy—Darcy—so beautiful, so sweet—I remember you as a little girl . . . don't you remember me?" He gropes at her skirt and Darcy dances away from him, resisting the urge to kick him away. Pettigrew follows her on his hands and knees like the rodent he is, and Darcy trips over her own feet, landing in someone's arms. "Just like your mother, Darcy—a young woman now, so lovely and beautiful . . . so forgiving . . ."

"Get away from her!" Lupin shouts, pulling Darcy roughly behind him. Darcy clings to his arm again, staring down at Pettigrew with disgust. "Don't you dare touch her—stay behind me, Darcy." Lupin's voice is soft and dangerous.

"Harry—" Pettigrew starts again, making his way to Harry. "James wouldn't have wanted me killed—James would have shown me mercy—"

At this, Sirius growls. "Don't you dare talk about James in front of them!" He holds up Snape's wand in his hand, inches away from Pettigrew. "You sold James and Lily to Voldemort—do you deny it?"

Pettigrew starts to cry again, blubbering like a baby, and Darcy feels a twinge of pity for him—but only for a moment, until he opens his mouth to speak again. "What could I have done? He would have killed me!"

"Then you should have died!" Sirius screams, his voice becoming hoarse. "Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"

Lupin takes a step forward and Darcy releases him. He and Sirius stand shoulder to shoulder, wands pointed at Pettigrew. Darcy moves around Lupin to watch, her heart speeding up again. "You should have realized," Lupin says quietly. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter." Lupin swallows. "Look away, Darcy."

But she doesn't. Darcy will not look away. She will watch the men she loves kill the man who took everything away from her—she does not want to forget this moment of triumph, and Darcy clenches her already painful jaw, curling her hands into fists, her wand clenched tight.

"No!"

Darcy jumps, looking to Harry, who had spoken. Harry throws himself in front of Pettigrew, panting. Darcy, Lupin, and Sirius stare at Harry, bewildered.

Harry looks dispirited, breathless. "You can't kill him—you can't—"

"Harry," Darcy breathes, trying to block out everyone in the room. She gives Harry a withering stare, trying to make him see reason. But she knows had Harry will never understand. Harry will never understand the responsibility she had taken on at such a young age because of Pettigrew. Harry will never understand the sense of loss she's felt because of him—the loss of her innocence, of her childhood, of not only her parents, but Sirius, too. "Look at what he's done—he's the reason our parents are dead—he's the reason Sirius and I—" She pauses, looking to Lupin, hoping he'll back her up, but he stays silent, eyes fixed upon Pettigrew. "He deserves this."

But Harry is looking at Darcy as if he's never seen her before, shaking his head. "That's not you, Darcy—you're not a killer," he rasps. "If they kill him, they're no better than him. He can go to Azkaban—let the dementors have him."

Darcy seems to deflate. All the rage she had been feeling seems to escape her at Harry's words. Lupin looks up at Darcy, seeming exhausted, his hair falling into his eyes. "Is that all right with you, Darcy?" he asks softly. "We'll bring him to the castle, to give his testimony to Dumbledore—but if he transforms, we'll kill him. Agreed?"

Hesitating slightly, Darcy nods. Quickly, Lupin and Sirius begin to clean up after themselves—Lupin binds Peter Pettigrew the same way Snape had done to him, straps Ron's leg to a splint, and hurries to Snape, still unconscious on the ground. Sirius keeps an eye on Pettigrew, glancing almost sheepishly at Harry and Darcy every so often. At last, when Snape is dangling as if being controlled by a puppeteer, and Ron and Lupin have both taken up the job of being chained to Pettigrew by heavy manacles, Crookshanks, Harry, and Hermione lead the way out of the Shrieking Shack. Ron, Lupin, and Pettigrew follow. After they walk out the door, Sirius puts a hand on Darcy's shoulder and guides her behind the floating form of Snape, Sirius controlling him lazily with Snape's wand.

The trek through the tunnel seems to last forever. Lupin glances over his shoulder at her every few moments, but when he catches Sirius' eye, he looks away. Harry, as well, looks back at Darcy, but she finds it hard to look back at him. She wraps her arms around herself as Sirius's arm bumps hers.

"You're, er—very grown up now," Sirius mutters, not bothering to move Snape as they come up on a low rock, and Snape's head cracks off of it. "You and Harry. The last time I saw you, you were barely five."

"I've done a lot of growing up in the past twelve years," she admits shyly, rubbing at the back of her neck and then touching her jaw gingerly.

"Remus has been taking care of you for me, then?" he asks with a sideways glance at her.

"Well," she answers, blushing fiercely. She's thankful for the darkness of the tunnel. "He's only started teaching this year, but . . . yes, he's been taking care of me."

"Good. Good." Sirius clears his throat. "You—you seem—close."

"He's been very good to me this year." Darcy looks at him, her heart jumping in her throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes!" Sirius says, then he realizes how eager he sounds and tries again. "I mean—yes. What is it?"

"It might sound—I mean—these dreams that I've been having," she starts, blushing again. "Whenever you come to pull me from the rubble, I—I mean—we—we loved each other, didn't we?"

Sirius's hard face suddenly softens. "Yes," he says sadly. "We did. I thought about you often in Azkaban—the thought of seeing you again, even from afar, I—I had hoped it would be under different circumstances than this. I don't know if you know this, but I am your . . . well, your parents named me your godfather."

"I know."

Harry and Hermione climb through the base of the Whomping Willow, following Crookshanks's fluffy, orange tail. They help pull Ron, Lupin, and Pettigrew up awkwardly, trying not to damage Ron's leg even further. Sirius raises Snape's wand and Snape floats up through the exit, and then a hand stretches down through the hole, fingers searching for a hand to hold. Darcy glances at Sirius before taking Lupin's hand and she clambers up with ease. Sirius follows her, and Darcy takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air.

"Are you all right?" Lupin asks quietly, looking her over, clearly trying to avoid either Peter or Ron overhearing.

"I'm fine," she says, smiling very weakly and uncertainly up at him.

Lupin nods, not looking entirely convinced. "Your jaw is . . ." He winces, touching her jaw with gentle fingers where she can feel the bruise forming. Darcy gasps. "We'll get you to the hospital wing straight away when we get back to the castle. Let me deal with this first." He jerks his head towards Peter, turning away from Darcy.

Darcy looks around quickly for the others, and nearly falls into Harry and Hermione's outstretched arms, and the three of them hug for a moment before pulling away. She looks up at the castle, looking inviting and welcoming and she imagines curling up on one of the beds in the hospital wing, sleeping deeply . . . having her dreams of Sirius in a different context . . . knowing it was all real . . .

"Are you guys all right?" she asks, her throat painful from all the talking, screaming, and crying she's just done. Darcy's fingers brush over the cuts on Hermione's shoulder and the few scratches on Harry's face. "We need to get up to the castle—we all need the hospital wing and some sleep. Come on, they're right behind us."

But Hermione's face is suddenly white with terror. "Darcy—"

Darcy turns around quickly, and as she does so, knows what Hermione is frightened of. She looks up into the dark and cloudy sky, watching a nearby cloud shift to reveal the moon—a beautiful, bright, full moon—and Darcy starts to feel nauseous again. Instinctively, Darcy pushes Harry and Hermione behind her, trying to force the memories out of her mind—her left shoulder twinges painfully and she puts a hand over the scars there. She looks at Lupin, thinking very fast as he begins to shake and tremble all over, and soon the night air is filled with the shrieking and moaning she'd heard as she had entered the Shrieking Shack so long ago.

"Run!" Sirius calls to them, but Darcy looks at Ron, who doesn't seem to be able to handle many more surprises. "Run! I'll handle it!"

Darcy tries not to look at Lupin, but out of the corner of her eye, she can see it all—the lengthening of his limbs, his snout growing from his face and hair sprouting on every inch of skin visible; Lupin's clothes start to rip and tear and soon, Darcy is standing feet from a fully grown werewolf. Breathing very heavily, Darcy points her wand at the manacle around Lupin's wrist and ankle, freeing him from Pettigrew and Ron. Darcy sprints to Ron, Harry and Hermione behind her, but something knocks her down, knocking the wind out of her—

She looks up, dazed, at the big, black dog she knows now is Sirius. He bounds off her at once, opening his jaws wide and clamping down around Lupin's neck, dragging the werewolf away from the crowd of people still huddled on the lawn. Hands still held up in the air, ready to help Ron, Darcy stares at the werewolf and the dog, snarling and snapping at each other, colliding under the light of the full moon.

Several things happen very quickly then. Hermione screams, making Darcy tense with fear; Pettigrew moves quickly towards Lupin's dropped wand on the grass; Darcy, reaching for her wand, doesn't reach it in time, as Ron, unsteady on his leg, falls into Darcy, dead weight against her body. Barely able to support Ron, Darcy fumbles with her wand, but then there's a loud BANG and Darcy feels tingling in her chest. Darcy's hand releases Ron's shirt before she closes her eyes, collapsing to the ground, Ron falling with her.